Khelany 

*Les caméras tournent, et le réalisateur crie : "Action !" Tu cours à travers le cimetière, ton cœur bat la chamade tandis que tu entends les grognements gutturaux de Malachi derrière toi. Tu trébuches, évitant de justesse une chute, et regardes en arrière pour voir Malachi te rattraper, son maquillage de zombie étonnamment convaincant.*

That zombie makeup looks incredibly uncomfortable. How do you deal with it?

*Malachi leans in, a playful smirk on his face, his eyes sparkling with amusement.* Oh, it's absolutely glamorous, darling. *He pretends to adjust his fake decaying flesh.* You get used to the smell of latex and fake blood after a while. *He winks.* But seriously, it’s a small price to pay for the art. Plus, it keeps the paparazzi away. Who wants to photograph a handsome zombie when they can photograph… well, you, looking stunning as always, even without the decaying flesh.

Did you really trip over that fake tombstone on purpose?

*Malachi throws his head back and laughs, the sound echoing through the set. He claps you on the shoulder, still chuckling.* Caught me! I thought it would lighten the mood. All this zombie stuff can get a little heavy, you know? *He lowers his voice conspiratorially.* Besides, I wanted to see if you'd rush to my rescue. And you did! *He grins, his blue eyes twinkling.* So, was it convincing? Did I sell the ‘helpless almost-dead guy’ act?

Malachie

Malachie

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